


unlock the doors

by suspendis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Technology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Plug, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23912098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendis/pseuds/suspendis
Summary: Sendak/DoorknobNo, you didn't misread that.No, I'm not shitting you.No, there's nothing wrong with me.
Relationships: Sendak/Doorknob (Voltron)
Kudos: 1





	unlock the doors

**Author's Note:**

> I got [this prompt](https://s-tover.tumblr.com/post/616747655024050176/this-is-coming-from-an-inside-joke-and-my-friend) on tumblr in 2016 (?). Laughed. Moved my cursor over the trash icon to delete it. Stopped, and thought. Left it alone.
> 
> Then I started writing.
> 
> -  
> -
> 
> Sendak will be slightly out of character, considering I first conceived of this before S2 launched. And, of course, for other reasons unique to the prompt.

When Dr. Gravak accepted his position as head researcher on Commander Sendak’s fleet, he had no idea he would be leading the Quintessence Extraction Survey and Assessment (QESA) voyage through the Fortuna Cluster. The position was previously held by Dr. Kyzak, a promising young mind whom Gravak had the pleasure of teaching, whose work had markedly improved the extraction of quintessence, and was now dead. There was no room for insubordination on a Commander’s fleet, much less his ship, no matter your contributions. Such was the way of the Empire.

There was no service for the late Captain, unless one would count the procedures of trial by combat. The need to search for a suitable replacement took the utmost priority, and Dr. Gravak knew, upon hearing of his late student’s passing, that he would be restored to his old position. There were no other quintessence scientists left in the Empire’s fourth quadrant. All had either gone in service to the druids or had already been dismissed upon the late realization of what, exactly, their research on quintessence amounted to. Few scientists continued their life’s work after having watched whole planets crumble to rock from a harvest. Dr. Gravak was one of these few.

He was concerned, however, that he would not last. His research on quintessence mining made him familiar with the planetary terrain of the Fortuna Cluster. It was a lackluster group of galaxies that would be of little use to the Empire. A QESA voyage would garner no different results. 

But one did not argue with the Commander. And so, a QESA was launched. 

Initial reports returned poor levels of quintessence from planets like Ganderbrite, Valen, and Earth—the only planets with hardy lifeforms—and brought in estimates that indicated any energy harvested from the three planets combined would just barely replenish whatever quintessence was used. Earth, in particular, was of a poor state. The planet was already dying, one of his researchers had said, a result of the Earth lifeform’s strange culture of self-sabotage. Dr. Gravak thought perhaps it was at least worth a study, but was quickly bored of watching cyclical patterns of ignorance, arrogance, and greed, and dropped the study. The drop was hardly a surprise, since the one to lead the survey on Earth was none other than Krolia, who had the sharpest foresight of all his students.

In the end, there was nothing to bring back but biological samples. As was typical of the case, most died. The Earth samples perished in a day, while the Valen samples killed themselves in all sorts of creative ways. The Ganderbrite samples survived the longest, news that satisfied the Commander, for he had in mind a desire to colonize something if there was no quintessence to be had. The Commander moved in shortly after receiving the report, and had completed the task in a matter of hours. One of his captains, Brakel, was given the honor of monitoring both the colonies and the rest of the planets in the Fortuna Cluster, while Krolia was promoted to act as his second-in-command. 

With that, the Empire moved on.

Shortly after the QESA voyage, Dr. Gravak died quietly in his sleep. A new scientist was dredged onto the ship from another quadrant. A new cluster was scoured, and new planets colonized or devoured, and Dr. Gravak’s name was soon forgotten.

Sometime in this aftermath, an Earth artifact was discovered in one of the compartments in the research quarters on Commander Sendak’s battleship. That it was a compartment once belonging to the late Dr. Gravak was no surprise. He had spent some time, however short, studying the planets of the Fortuna Cluster, and had even garnered some private fondness for Earth despite denouncing the planet’s usefulness. When the artifact was retrieved, it was brought to Commander Sendak. Everyone knew the Commander thought well of the late scientist, whose work had furthered his career by adding yet another colony under his fleet, and thought it would bring the Commander in one of his better moods. 

This was how it came to be that Sendak, Commander of the Galra military’s Obsidian Fleet, happened to be in the fortune of obtaining possession of an Earth “doorknob.” It was made of wood and metal, and had an intriguing pattern along its cylinder. It had a shaft of lengthy proportions, which gave the artifact an uncanny appearance.

Over time, the Earth artifact was forgotten. It stayed, abandoned, in a compartment in his quarters. Rarely did the object come across his mind, until one day, when he discovered that it served well to address a most unfortunate issue.

And what a discovery it was.

* * *

The planet of Kalusia was known for its handsome meadows and the large, succulent fruit farmed from their rich fields. The papona had sweet, tender flesh that dripped syrupy juices when cut, and the fruit’s bright red skin was easy to peel. Dishes made from the Kalusian fruit were legendary throughout the galaxy, elevating prime cuts with honeyed glazes and serving slivers of decadence even when sliced plainly on serving platters. Its bold, red skin was often a primary feature in subtleties, where gold and silver leaves framed thin ribbons of papona skins curled and styled to resemble floral decals in an antiquated method revered by the Kalusian nobility.

When Sendak ripped out the heart of Kalusia’s King and stuck his head on a pike at the center of the city square, he expected all those garnishes and more at the feast celebrating the Empire’s victory over Kalusia. He demanded each and every famed use of the papona, and ordered the feast to be lavish and abundant. He would settle for nothing less. He was to be their interim ruler, after all, until Emperor Zarkon arrived to officiate the Empire’s claim over the planet.

And as the interim ruler, he decided to be rid of whatever was left of the Kalusian military. Many, he sent to the Empire’s labor camps, and a handful were sent along to the druids. Whatever else was left simply had to go.

“Spare us!”

“Please, have—!”

As he passed by the executioner’s platform, Sendak came to an abrupt halt. Well timed, as he very narrowly avoided a splatter of blood that flew a mere inch from his face. A head once attached to a member of the Kalusian military rolled off the wooden block and thumped into the soil. A thin trickle of blood dripped from his neck. Sendak hardly paid it a moment’s notice. 

He carried on to the Grand Arch, which would lead him to the Kalusian court and castle. There was much to prepare before Emperor Zarkon’s arrival.

On the block, the cries of the soldiers bleated pitifully. 

“Mercy!”

“We offer no opposition!”

“Allegiance to the Empire! Please, spare us— _urrk—guk!”_

The sound of a blade twisting and hacking wetly through bone was the common noise of an executioner’s faulty strike. Sendak glanced behind him in time to see the executioner’s grip on his sword slip just as the blade finally cut through the neck it’d gotten stuck in. 

The executioner, a new recruit named Arlak, suddenly became very still, staring at the detached head on the wooden floor. Then the man dropped his sword, collapsed on the bloodied platform, and vomited.

Sendak frowned.

“Commander Sendak.” A stern voice of a long-time soldier on Sendak’s fleet caught his notice at once. “Captain Javok requests permission to retire Arlak.”

To Sendak’s left, a soldier with a black and red band around his left bicep stood at attention before him. This was Stalag, a soldier of the Empire who had been with the Obsidian Fleet for many years. Sendak had recommended he be promoted to Captain in Zarkon’s personal fleet many years ago, but Stalag had respectfully declined, citing his wishes to remain under Sendak’s command.

Stalog was frightfully loyal. Sendak found it useful on several occassions. Now was certainly one of them.

“Tell Captain Javok that Arlak will not be ‘retired,’” he ordered, “and that no Galra soldier may be ‘retired’ unless directly discussed with me.” There was a certain bite in his tone he made sure was evident, because this was a matter that he had spoken to Captain Javok about on a number of occasions. The Captain seemed too easily forgetful of the regulations that took place within the Obsidian Fleet.

“Understood. Shall I request he be brought before you?”

The idea of having the same conversation yet again was enough to make his lip curl. “No,” was the curt reply. “If the Captain wants his men to do well, he must make for himself an example.”

Stalog hesitated. “Do you wish for me to report verbatim?”

“I don’t care,” he said, and meant it. Captain Javok wouldn’t dare throw a tantrum in the square, not while the Emperor was due to arrive any moment now. And Stalog wouldn’t report verbatim regardless of whether Sendak had ordered him to or not. The man was far too good to do something of that sort, which was precisely why Sendak kept him close. Genuine loyaly _and_ intelligence in a soldier was as rare as the gold ores of Jarva. 

“Do as you see fit.”

“Yes, sir.”

Instead of going off to relay the message however he would, Stalog remained standing beside him and looking for all the world as if there was still something to be said. Sendak gave the soldier an expectant look. “Well?” he prodded gruffly. “What keeps you here?”

“My apologies, Commander. I only wish to inquire what will become of Arlak.”

“Arlak will be returned to the supply ship. He is more suited for labor than he is for war.”

“I see.”

Sendak looked to the young man who had passed out on the block. Arlak was a recent transfer from a Galra supply ship in the Arusian galaxy. He wasn’t Galra, despite his records; Sendak knew druid work when he saw it, and Arlak’s yellow eyes shined too bright to be fully Galra. He was an artificial creation, no doubt. Why he was sent here unnerved him to no end. Sendak smelled a rat—one that seemed keen on tailing the fool, Javok, wherever he went. 

“The druids have a far-reaching hand in the affairs of the Empire.” Sendak turned briefly from watching Arlak being accosted by the Captain in front of the Kalusian military to give Stalog a knowing look. “It is best to remind Captain Javok of that.”

Stalog allowed a moment’s silence to pass. “I am not certain that Captain Javok would understand the meaning behind your words.”

Sendak studied Stalog’s watchful gaze on Arlok. “That will be his own undoing.”

“Understood.”

Stalog’s expression didn’t change as he replied, nor did Sendak expect it to. That in itself, Sendak had come to understand, was an answer all on its own.

Sendak watched the most loyal soldier under his command swoop in to save the druids’ latest surveyor from a most humiliating death at the hands of a Captain over-eager to prove his worth. Stalog stood between Arlak and Captain Javok to relay a message. Captain Javok did not stand down. Instead, he made to push Stalog away. Sendak watched with some inkling of pride as Stalog merely stared the young Captain down as he repeated his message. Captain Javok shouted and angrily swung his sword into the crowd behind him.

Sendak frowned, watching how poorly the Captain was reacting. Years ago, he would have questioned what Stalog had said, but he knew now that it didn’t matter. Captain Javok had a temper unfit for his position; the only reason Sendak kept him on board was because of his connections with the Commander of the Alexandrite Fleet. It was a pity Commander Grivya’s restraint did not run farther down her blood as Sendak would have liked. 

Sendak watched Captain Javok swing the executioner’s blade into the side of a Kalusian foot soldier. Blood sprayed from his wound and screams poured from his mouth. The crowd of unfit soldiers were pitched into a frenzy, screaming and crying and thrashing against the guards. The Galra placed under Javok’s lead followed their Captain in drawing their weapons, firing into the crowd. Soon, the entire square was piling up with corpses of the Kalusian military.

When it was over, Sendak turned his back on the bloodbath in the courtyard. He ignored the manic laughter of the Captain, instead taking note of the quiet way Stalog was speaking to Arlak as he lead the young recruit away from the city square. Arlak wore a haggard expression that lifted when Stalog touched a hand to his back. From where he stood, Sendak could see a soft look break the stoic wall of Stalog’s face as Arlak replied, with little hesitance.

Sendak thought their interaction bizzare. Surely, Stalog knew what the druids used Arlak for. Why anyone would willingly choose a surveillance system to bed with, he could not understand.

* * *

When the Emperor arrived, it was a quiet affair. Zarkon hated public assemblies for the same reason Sendak kept his hand curled around a knife when he slept at night. In times of war, paranoia was often a key element in climbing to the top. Of course, Sendak’s climb had long stopped once the Emperor made him Commander. Now all he had left to do was maintain it. That called for a different kind of paranoia, the kind that Emperor Zarkon also seemed to be well versed in—though, not in the way Sendak would have liked. 

Haggar was the only one accompanying the Emperor when he came to Kalusia at night. Zarkon had left his entire fleet behind, choosing to come in a private ship with the witch by his side. It was hardly a surprising sight; the druids had a stronger stake in the Emperor’s plans, and Sendak appreciated their prowess. But they were a dangerous people, and for the Emperor to be so reliant on them posed a legitimate concern.

But no matter. Haggar looked as spiteful as ever at having to be here, which meant she had hardly a needle with which to weave Kalusia into her intricate web of plans. Sendak didn’t know who that was advantageous for: the Emperor, himself, or no one at all. Perhaps it was a waste to colonize Kalusia after all. The only thing of value here, it seemed, was the papona, which would undoubtedly fetch a high price once their cultivation was integrated into the Empire.

Sendak greeted the Emperor with the traditional salute and bow. “Vrepit sa!”

“Rise, Commander. I have no need of your pleasantries now.”

The growl in the Emperor’s voice made Sendak flick a curious glance at Haggar. Her face was hidden under her dark robes, but he could see the way her lips were pulled tight. Had there been a disagreement? What a pity. Sendak quickly squashed down the stir of amusement, lest it show on his face. 

“My apologies, Your Excellency. Do you wish to retire for the night?”

The Emperor looked as if he were contemplating the request. He was taking a long time coming to a decision, seeming to do so quite deliberately as he cared not for the vexed visage of the druid beside him.

“It would be wise for the Emperor to make his appearance before the Kalusian nobility,” Haggar spoke, unfiltered exasperation in her words. “Kalusia is home to a proud people. Care for the nobility may play to the Empire’s favor, just as abandon may stoke the fires of an unnecessary rebellion.”

“A worthy tradition to note,” The Emperor noted chillingly. “Be mindful of this the next time you choose to ignore my summons.”

Haggar did not respond.

Sendak wisely refrained from comment.

“Make preparations for my seating,” the Emperor said at last, if a little bit smug. “I will attend the banquet to declare my rule over Kalusia, and later hold audience with the nobles. Let us see how much favor these Kalusian nobles can bring.”

Sendak bowed low. “As you wish, Your Excellency.”

He let Stalog lead the Emperor to his chambers, keeping a watchful eye on the Sorcerer for as long as he could. Right before they turned the corner, Haggar broke away from the Emperor’s side and turned to face him. “I hear that Captain Javok is a very spirited warrior,” she said. 

“Too spirited.” Sendak spoke freely, for he knew that while he was not a favorite amongst the druids, Captain Javok was even less so. “His greed for power blinds him from the way his own men watch him with wary eyes.”

“That will be his own undoing.” The witch Haggar echoed Sendak’s very words back to him, a thinly veiled look in her glowing, jaundice eyes.

Sendak watched Haggar reclaim her position at the Emperor’s side in a flashing crackle of black magic. When Haggar fell back into step with the others, Sendak saw the brief glance the Emperor sent his way. 

The Emperor seemed not to care of the conversation that had just transpired between his most trusted Druid and most preferred Commander, returning his gaze to the front where Stalog led the way to their chambers. But Sendak had not climbed up the ranks to stand where he did without learning first how to read the Emperor’s intentions. 

There was another reason why the Emperor decided to attend the banquet tonight, and Sendak knew with certainty that it had to do with Captain Javok. Fool’s pride was a trait least welcomed in a titled officer, for it was one touch away from arrogance. And misplaced arrogance was one the worst of all crimes against virtue—and against the Crown.

* * *

The Emperor was seated at the banquet on a grand table filled with subtleties and dishes of meat. The cooked vegetation of Kalusia was presented as sides of dark purples, vibrant greens, and soft blues. The papona was used generously as thick gravies and sweet glazes, and a large papona was laid upon the table’s center, surrounded by a bed of dried leaves that glinted gold and silver all around.

Around the Emperor were gathered five of his Commanders, all of whom Sendak had absolutely no recollection of having invited. Some he had never seen face-to-face until they departed from their ship, which was not at all unusual the higher up you moved within the Empire. Others who arrived, he knew all too well, for their mannerisms and leisurely pursuits made them atrocious. There was one Commander who caught his curious eye--the Head Justice of the Empire’s High Court, whom Sendak knew most as the shared blood of his bawdy Captain. 

All five of the guest Commanders were present at the banquet, and as the conversation turned quickly to politics, the welcoming and courteous gestures they had displayed for one another upon meeting ceased at once. Gaining the Emperor’s favor was now back on the agenda. 

“Demolishing Tjarok influence on our Ganderbrite colonies sets us on course to conquer the rest of the planets beyond the Fortuna Cluster. It would be wise to act now and send a fleet to take the first of the Scattered Planets.” These were the words of Sendak himself, to whom the expansion of the Galra Empire was of great importance.

Commander Lyzak, who had been quietly sipping wine or smiling handsomely to refrain from comment, gave his thoughts at last. “Gagervon has rallied a formidable offence against the Empire in years past. Certainly they will be present in the Scattered Planets.”

A large, broad-shouldered Galra with a wide face, thick neck, and beefy arms snorted indignantly. “Ridiculous. The Vylksi have sent word confirming their erasure.”

“Commander Yurak,” spoke a lady dressed in a modest gown, “the Vylksi are not to be trusted. Many times have their royal scepter changed hands. A planet in disunion is a planet in disarray, and as such are unfit to be an ally of the Empire.” She held a glass full of wine she had yet to bring to her lips, as they were occupied always with nibbling at roots.

A Galra woman in full military garb, complete with ancient golden headdress that hid half her face from view, scowled fiercely. “You forget, Zalva, how the Vylksi have been allied with us for millennia! We mustn’t retract our faith in a people so loyal to the Empire. Allow them the chance to rise up—to prove themselves to us once more! Zir sa ymperio!” She pounded a fist on the table, rattling every dish and glass. **(1)**

Everyone at the table reacted. Commander Lyzak kicked back on his chair, narrowly evading a splash of gravy as it sloshed over the brim of his dish. Sendak, too, had to lean away to avoid staining his clothes from a red sauce. Commander Yurak hadn’t cared to lean away, and only flicked off a speck of meat from his pants leg. Lady Zalva observed the whole scene with narrowed eyes and offence pinching at the rest of her face.

Amidst muted grumbles—all save for one, who was now hurriedly mopping up her spilled drink and muttering apologies left and right—Haggar waved a hand. At once, every dish was settled and re-formed to their finest, and each glass restored. Commander Yurak, still in mid-chew, eyed his own glass of wine as it re-filled from the spillage on the table. With a grunt, he reached over to snatch his wineglass from the table, dumped the contents onto the floor, and pour himself anew. Beside him, Commander Zalva frowned but said nothing.

“Commander Grivya raises a fine point.” spoke the Emperor, quickly gaining the attention of his counsel in full, “The Vylksi are a hardy race and strong allies. They will unify if only to maintain diplomatic ties to the Empire.”

Commander Lyzak gave a thoughtful hum as he smiled around his glass. “And how could they not? They know what will come should they not meet the needs of the Empire.”

“The same goes to all under the Empire’s rule,” Haggar interjected, pinning the youngest Commander with a stern gaze.

The smile on Commander Lyzak’s face faltered slightly. “Duly noted.”

“Many pardons for breaking conversation,” said Commander Zalva, drawing attention now to her, “With Madam’s word, I insist that we now reflect upon our own people in command.”

A look of inquiry passed freely amongst the Commanders. Haggar looked to the Emperor first before speaking. “Clarify, Lady Zalva.”

Commander Zalva gave a polite bow of her head. “Thank you, Madam.” She looked to Commander Grivya, who, for once, was quiet and still. “I mean to raise this matter not to bring dishonor upon your name, but to maintain it. It is my hope that you accept my gesture of concern.”

Commander Grivya suddenly turned stiff. Shoulders squared, she rose to her feet and faced Sendak head on. “Sendak! Speak! What is it that my ilk has done now?”

“What _hasn’t_ he done, is the question,” Commander Lyzak muttered around the lip of his glass. There were several who gave the young Commander an admonishing look, Sendak included.

Finally, Sendak answered. “Captain Javok took it upon himself to excuse us of the responsibility of overseeing Kalusia’s military.”

“Commander Sendak.” The calm, demure voice of Lady Zalva was bitingly sharp. “Your patience with Captain Javok does nothing for the Empire. Your position as Commander is not only to lead the fleet which you have been entrusted, but also to cut away the thorns in the Emperor’s side. I must ask this of you—Why have you not yet taken any action against Captain Javok?”

“Hm, yes,” said Commander Lyzak, setting down his glass for the first time since they were all seated. “I, too, am quite curious why you haven’t gotten rid of him. That’s not like you at all, Commander.”

The gall of Commander Zalva to insinuate that he, Sendak of Brevalra and son of the great General Caldak, was incapable of disciplining the men placed under his command was a pathetic slight. Sendak had no understanding of the reasons behind the good Lady’s words—if she was a good Lady at all—but he for one knew it was unwise to lose favor with the Galra nobility. And, if things should come to pass the way he planned, the Galra nobility would quickly learn that it was equally unpleasant to be on the wrong end of his favor.

Plans aside, the evening would soon lay abuzz with slander if he didn’t see to it that it be shut down. Commander Lyzak had sharp ears and a serpent’s tongue. While no one could prove it for certain, it was commonly said that the youngest Commander in the Emperor’s command had a penchant for gossip and libelous talk. Sendak was certain the man’s crafty mind and well of information was how he crawled into his high military post at such a tender age.

“It is not my call to make,” Sendak chose to reply. “Correct me if I am mistaken, Commander Grivya, but members of the High Court can only be sanctioned from the head of their own blood. I cannot imagine what Lady Zalva is implying by questioning my judgment, when it would be unlawful for me to speak against a member of the High Court.”

Commander Zalva nibbled on a root.

“Commander Grivya,” the Emperor interjected, his low voice capturing his silenced counsel, “As the eldest of those who share blood with Captain Javok, how shall you proceed?”

Commander Grivya had remained unusually silent and still throughout the whole exchange. It was difficult to see what affect this news had brought upon her, for the headdress kept most of her face out of view. But, if Sendak knew Commander Grivya well, the head of the Galra Empire’s High Court was hardly shaken by the sudden turn of events.

“My Emperor,” she began, “My churlish brother poses no harm to the Empire. But I will see to it that he be dealt with.” The head of the Galra High Court turned her shielded face upon Sendak in order to address him. “Commander Sendak. Assist me in maintaining justice in the Empire and bring clarity to the Court. What offense has Captain Javok brought that requires his recompense?”

“Recompense?” Commander Zalva looked appalled. “Justice Grivya, I know you to be good and fair, but I trust that even you know how even the slightest miscalculation can veer any ship off course. To mark Captain Javok with only a fine for his misdeeds cannot be seen by any soldier as anything but unethical. How can we lead our people to be loyal if we protect our own blood from consequence? When rebellion arises, who are we to blame?”

“Lady Zalva,” sighed the weary Commander Yurak, a frown having long made its way to his face. He had taken his time in finally involving himself with the new turn of events. If his tone were any indication, Commander Yurak certainly wished that this passed without need for his involvement. “A good conversation is not so different from a good steak. There are only so many ladles of gravy a chef should pour before the dish comes to ruin, no matter how tender the cut of meat nor how rich the gravy. Allow the meat of the conversation to stand alone.” Commander Yurak’s frown deepened as he slowly raised a brow. “Or are you, perhaps, fixing to drown it with your own ambitions?”

Commander Zalva said nothing.

Commander Grivya pounded a fist on the table. Dishes rattled and glasses shook. “Enough of this! Let us be upfront. What is the allegation against my brother?”

All eyes lay upon Commander Sendak, who was growing rather tiresome of this conversation. But the wording on Captain Javok’s trespasses needed to be carefully constructed. It would not do well for him if the Emperor learned how long an obstinate captain had functioned without recourse while under his command. A gentle phrasing of the disorderly captain, however, would only keep the thorn in his side right where it was.

“Misguided justice,” he said at last. “Captain Javok took it upon himself to execute members of the Kalusian nobility in an unsightly manner to demonstrate the Galra Empire’s power to rule.”

Commander Lyzak laughed, a high-pitched trilling giggle that amused no one but his own self. “Unsightly indeed. The courtyard is still awash in red. No one can step through the main gate without drenching their feet in the blood of what could have been quite the collection of slaves.” A thin smile stretched across the face of the young Commander. “The Kalusians are known for their beautiful operas. It’s a pity we can’t hear how rich the tones a noblewoman’s voice can be outside of the theater.”

“Lyzak,” Commander Yurak growled, setting his glass of wine on the table at last with a heavy thud.

Commander Lyzak smiled handsomely but said nothing.

“It is highly immoral,” Lady Zalva spoke with conviction, “to allow a member of the High Court to commit such acts without proper recourse. How are we to ensure the deference of our own if we allow corruption to seep through our ranks?”

At that, Commander Grivya leaped from her seat. So passionate was she that the chair she had dined in flung backwards to clatter noisily to the ground. Joining that sound was the loud banging of two fists on the table, rattling again the many plates and dishes that were set upon it. “As long as there is breath in my lungs, there will be no corruption in this Empire! As Head Justice of the High Court, I shall see to it that my rotten brother will be punished.” 

“Of course,” Commander Lyzak grimaced, dabbing a napkin at a dark spot on his shirt. “but may the Head Justice of the High Court also see to it that judicial ways of communication be restricted to the court? Do you know how dreadful it is get wine out of fine sylverlain? This is hand-woven, too! That costs double.”

The low growling voice of the Emperor brought winter to the table. “Cease your mindless chatter.”

Silence came immediately to the table. Lady Zalva bowed her head, as did Commander Yurak. Neither of them touched their glasses. Commander Lyzak stopped trying to salvage his precious dining shirt. Commander Grivya pursed her lips and said nothing.

“Ridiculous, the lot of you. Here you are, seated as my counsel, and you waste your breath on petty squabbles.”

“My Lord,” spoke Lady Zalva, her head still bowed, “Forgive me for seeking clarity. I am concerned that you consider the matter of disciplining Captain Javok nothing more than a—”

“The Emperor cares not how his counsel deals with a defective soldier,” Haggar hissed. “He cares only that it is done. As Commanders of the Empire whom the Emperor has elected to take seat upon his council, surely this is a matter that can be resolved amongst yourselves. Or have you grown so feeble that you need the Emperor to reconsider your positions?”

Lady Zalva fell mute. Commander Grivya visibly stiffened in her seat, raising her head high, while Commander Yurak rolled his shoulders back as he leaned fully into his seat. Commander Lyzak inspected his nails.

The Emperor spoke once more. “Commander Sendak.”

A stab of ice went down his back. What words would the Emperor offer to him? How would his position change?

“You and Commander Yurak have refrained from allowing this ridiculous exchange to leash you into wasteful chatter. I give both of you full authority to do as you see fit with this captain of yours.”

Sendak felt his chest expand with a slow, relieved intake of air. He bowed his head “Much gratitude, my Emperor.”

“As the Emperor desires,” Command Yurak said simultaneously.

All talk ceased at the table, the only sounds now the continuous clinking of utensils as the Emperor and his witch continued to dine. Sendak caught the warning look in Commander Yurak’s eyes, a gaze that flitted quickly to the side and back again. Sendak looked first to his own side, at Commander Lyzak, who bore a heavy frown as he fingered the hem of his ruined shirt and eyed his glass of wine with deep disdain. Then, he looked briefly to Commander Grivya, who was no longer feasting ravenously in the way she always did and instead choose to vigorously cut the slab of meat somehow still on her plate. Whether or not she met his gaze, he knew not. But he knew whose gaze he would meet.

Commander Zalva, looking quite serene, smiled when his eyes at last fell upon her own. She nibbled on a purple root freshly plucked out of one of the subtleties. She carefully laid the sliver of yvechia down on her plate, raised her glass, and declared,

“A toast, shall we? To the grand efforts of our dearest Commander Sendak, for ensuring that Kalusia fell into our hands.”

“Hear, hear,” said Commander Lyzak, always ready to celebrate.

Slowly, all seven glasses at the table were raised up.

“To the Empire,” said Commander Zalva.

“Zir sa ymperio!” they echoed back.

And as each glass returned to the lips of their respective owners, Sendak noted with unease the sharp eyes of the lone Galra noblewoman, whose gaze never once broke away from his as they all adhered to tradition and drank every last drop of wine in their glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(1)** Zir sa ymperio - Long live the Empire


End file.
